


Change of Plans

by Amelia041223



Category: Daredevil (TV), Iron Fist (TV)
Genre: Angst, Conversations, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Gun Violence, Hospitals, Hurt Foggy Nelson, New Year's Eve, Post-Season/Series 03, Sort Of, Whump, also some ninjas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22082347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amelia041223/pseuds/Amelia041223
Summary: This was not Foggy Nelson’s idea of a good New Year’s Eve.
Relationships: Franklin "Foggy" Nelson & Karen Page, Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Matt Murdock & Karen Page
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35
Collections: DDE’s 2020 New Year’s Day Exchange





	Change of Plans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [siriuslygrednforge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriuslygrednforge/gifts).



> Oh nooo this is slightly late, I'm so sorry! Well, in my time zone it isn't...? Sort of? But anyway, this was my first ever Daredevil fic, and I hope it's okay!
> 
> For the prompt "petrichor" for the Daredevil New Year's Exchange 2020 for siriuslygrednforge.

This was not Foggy Nelson’s idea of a good New Year’s Eve. 

Sure, maybe he wasn’t a stay-at-a-bar-until-you-pass-out-from-alcohol-poisoning type of person, or a party animal or anything, and it wasn’t as if he’d really had plans in the first place. But this newest near-death experience had definitely not been anywhere on or near the table last he’d talked to Matt.

Honestly Foggy only had himself to blame for expecting something that didn’t include fists and violence and  _ was that a ninja? _

Apparently a nice night out with Matt and Karen and a bit of drinking, some bad jokes and a taste of what life used to be like before nightly parkour escapades and constant gut-churning, spine-numbing  _ worry _ had been too much to ask for. 

He should be used to this by now. He should be. 

Instead he was just pissed. Vaguely annoyed. Alright, maybe also a little scared ‘cause that guy over there was doing crazy flips and shit and  _ wow  _ that katana nearly cleaved that other guy - what was his name? Lots of tattoos? - right,  _ Danny Rand’s  _ head off. Both parties were not the least bit fazed, and it seemed like Matt was doing well on his own, because of course he was. For now. Until something went wrong because something  _ always had to go wrong.  _

This was fine. 

It wasn’t like the cheap beer he’d abandoned at Josie’s was anything to miss. Okay, the lack of gunshots and sharp pointy things and kung fu or wing chun or whatever the heck it was had been nice while it lasted. But naturally, if Matt received a call from a member of the  _ Defenders  _ warning them to stay away from a dicey fight going on right on the block of his apartment, of course Matt wasn’t going to _ stay away _ , did the caller even _ know _ what kind of a person he was? 

So Matt was the first to stand up, briefly offering a jumbled explanation before hightailing it out of the bar. Then Karen jumped to her feet, calling after him before cursing, and latching a hand on Foggy’s arm. 

And so it was Foggy bid a brief farewell to his barely-opened beer and a night without incident, and found himself pulled all the way to a life-or-death ninja fight. 

“I can’t believe he’s dragging us into danger on New Year’s,” Karen huffed, her grip tightening as she ushered them into the absolute chaos that used to be a peaceful abandoned building tucked behind a once relatively innocuous alley.  _ Who was he kidding, nothing was innocuous in Hell’s Kitchen. _

“Actually, you are-”

“Come on, he might need us,” she said. Of course Matt didn’t need them. Matt was actually a martial artist. Foggy and Karen were both  _ decidedly not _ . But he didn’t say anything more; it wasn’t like he was going back to the bar. The gleam of worry in her eyes desperately masked with exasperation was probably way too close to his own expression. 

So yeah, no. 

Foggy hadn’t planned on a New Year’s Eve involving ninjas, Danny Rand, his undeniably badass girlfriend (ex-girlfriend? He didn’t know) with a  _ glowy  _ fist, but it wasn’t like he would be anywhere else. 

(He wasn’t going to be searching hospitals or morgues in the morning because all the mayhem was here where he could see it and if Matt needed a hospital he was  _ damn well going to make sure he got to one himself _ .) 

“Friend of yours?” 

Foggy turned, nearly jumping into his best defensive pose ( _ he didn’t have one? _ ) and why did he come without at least a bat or something -

A man with a small, sardonic smile pointed at where Matt was very much still apparently kicking ass and Foggy carefully eyed the newcomer again. He was in a suit. Sort of. It was all rumpled now, and -

He had a gun.

Shit.

Foggy jerked back a step, sweeping an arm in front of Karen because she was  _ not _ gonna die here -

The man blinked, eyes widening, before glancing down at the gun in his hand and hastily shaking his head, raising a palm as if in surrender. 

“Ah, ha, no, I’m with, ah, I’m with Danny,” he pointed to said casual billionaire currently dodging some kind of mace, and grimaced, grip tightening on the gun.

“Oh?” Foggy’s voice came out a bit too high and he coughed. Karen pushed his arm down.

“Ward Meachum, I’m his...brother,” the man offered after another beat, almost hesitantly. The name was vaguely familiar. Maybe another casual billionaire. Who also apparently got involved with ninjas on weekends. It was probably a family thing.

“You fight ninjas often?” Foggy didn’t realize he’d spoken until it was already out in the open. Alright then. He could make casual conversation.

The man, Ward, gave a little chuckle that was part self-deprecation, part exasperation, with maybe even a hint of fondness curling at the edges of his half smile. 

“I didn’t used to,” he said, “but then Danny…” he gestured vaguely, and let out a little sigh, and Foggy found himself nodding. Yeah, he could empathize. No more words were needed. Foggy also didn’t have much prior association with vigilantism and other fun miscellaneous night time activities until Matt Murdock dropped a certain masked bombshell on his head. The memory still echoed with all kinds of...icky, complicated feelings he really didn’t feel like unearthing at the moment so Foggy pushed them away. Forcefully. 

So yeah, the past few years had been hard, and filled with Daredevil shit. But it wasn’t like Foggy was just going to  _ leave.  _ Not now.

_ Not again. _

Ward gave him another curious glance before eyeing Matt, then gave a terse nod.

“I get it,” he said, then almost seemed to shoot him a look approaching something like sympathy or understanding (maybe even embarrassment?), before it was gone and he was rushing off, supposedly to defend his brother. Or get himself killed.

Foggy didn’t watch him go, instead redirecting his full attention to Matt’s ongoing skirmish. He didn’t seem to be doing too badly, though his nose was bleeding, and there were bruises already forming on his cheeks and it was one against three -

A flicker of movement caught Foggy’s eye, and Karen ran forward before he could blink.

There was someone half-hidden behind a dumpster. With a gun. And Foggy didn’t need eyes to know this one was one of the bad guys. 

Foggy was running - when had he started running? - and his legs were slightly made of jelly and his stomach was currently sinking through his toes, a cold writhing lump rising in his throat, because the barrel of a gun was very much trained on Matt, and now Karen, and _ he was not going to lose his friends this way oh god  _ -

Okay.

There was a gun in front of him.

That was fine, he just needed to -

A shot rang out.

It made his ears ring and ring.

Foggy felt himself shudder and he blinked.

Something wet landed in his eye. He was looking up at the sky.

When had it started raining - ?

_ When did he fall? _

Someone was shouting. Or screaming. Maybe both. 

He wasn’t really listening.

There was a flash of white light and the earth moved, and Foggy registered the briefest, blinding stab of pain somewhere in his chest before black crawled across his vision.

The last thing he knew was the faintest trace of petrichor, musky and sweet where it lingered in the breath of a hitching inhale -

* * *

_ Beep. Beep. Beep. Bee- _

Foggy let out a low, hoarse groan. Apparently he did end up partying harder than planned last night because this was probably one of the worst hangovers he’s had in a long while.

“Foggy?”

The word swam up to the surface from where it gargled in his ears and Foggy aimed to slap whoever was disturbing his well deserved post-New Year’s nap except his arms were too heavy and his head was full of cotton and there was a dull throbbing somewhere in his chest he didn’t really want to think too clearly about-

_ Gun. Bullet. Pain. _

_ Matt. Karen - _

Foggy forced his eyes open, letting out a strangled yelp. He scrabbled at the sheets under his fingers in an attempt to sit up but he couldn’t because everything  _ hurt  _ and a harsh, bright light was stabbing straight through to his skull and oh god  _ ninjas, were Matt and Karen even alive _ -

“Woah, hey, Foggy, it’s okay,” hands placed themselves on his shoulders and Foggy fell back under their weight. Not that he’d made much progress in the sitting-up department to begin with. 

And he knew that voice.

Foggy blinked until his eyes focused on the bruised, thoroughly scuffed-up face in front of him and  _ oh thank god he knew that face - _

“Matt,” he croaked, weakly fisting a hand in the sleeve of the coat attached to his friend - his friend who was  _ very much alive _ -

Matt gave him a shaky smile, eyes ever obscured by his shaded spectacles. Foggy could nearly glean his reflection in them, and he quickly averted his gaze.

Okay. He was in a hospital bed. Again. And Matt was okay, and -

“Karen?” He had to  _ know _ . 

A second set of hands rested lightly on his right arm, and Foggy flicked his head to the side and let out all the tension he didn’t know he’d been holding inside him with one long, shaky exhale. 

“You’re okay?” 

Karen smiled at him, before her face dropped into a small scowl.

“Yeah, no thanks to you, giving us all a heart attack,” she groused, hands tightening the slightest bit before loosening. Foggy gaped at her.

“Um, excuse me, but if I remember correctly, both of you gave me a heart attack  _ first _ .” He ended on a wheeze, voice cracking. God his mouth was so dry it hurt. “Not cool guys.”

Karen bit her lip, letting out a small laugh. It pitched a bit too sharply and Foggy caught a glimmer in her eyes before she pressed a palm to her face as if to hide whatever was lurking there. 

“Foggy, we thought you -” Matt swallowed, and fidgeted, before fully taking Foggy’s hand in his own, gently easing his grip on his sleeve. “We thought you were gonna -” he hissed as he sucked in a breath, “if it weren’t for Colleen, you’d be...dead.” 

Foggy blinked.

Oh.

_ Oh. _

“The...chick with the glowy hand thing?” He said slowly, voice hoarse. 

Matt nodded, “yeah, the, uh, iron fist.”

Foggy leaned back against his pillows, staring into the middle distance for a moment. He couldn’t really bring himself to look at the scarlet puffiness in Karen’s eyes or the jagged tension in Matt’s jaw. 

_ Well, that was a close one. _

A distant part of himself was laughing and it was decidedly the hysterical kind. __

“Um, that’s, uh…” he coughed, and winced as pain lanced through him at the movement, “that’s not really how I planned on spending New Year’s, but uh, yay for me for making it into the new year…?” _Or at least not dying before it was over._

Karen rolled watery eyes, as she moved to clutch his other hand between her own.

“Sure, Fogg.”

“Did you guys at least catch the ninjas?” He asked. Karen huffed a weak laugh. 

The ghost of a wry smile lifted at the corners of Matt’s lips.

“Ninjas?”

“Yeah, the bad guys, with all the fancy swords and stuff.”   


Matt shook his head, before giving a considering nod. 

“Some of them, yeah, a lot of them got away though. Things quickly went downhill after -” He clamped his mouth shut, lips thinning into a frown and Foggy didn’t need to hear the rest of the phrase to know how it ended. 

“Sorry, Matt, you can’t catch ‘em all. Pretty sure things would have sucked even worse if -”

Matt let out a low moan and Foggy blinked at him in shock.

“ _Don’t ever do that again_ ,” Matt said forcefully, something desperate lacing his words.

“Okay, yeah, it’s not like I really wanted to, you know, and it was arguably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done -”  
“ _Please,_ Foggy,” Matt’s voice hedged into a plea, nearly a whimper, and Foggy ignored the sick fluttering in his chest. _Now you know how I feel,_ a vicious part of him crowed. He immediately squashed it down. It wasn’t like it made him feel any better. And the painful note in Matt’s voice was _not_ something he liked hearing. It was just... _wrong_. 

“Yeah, it was stupid, Matt. But I’m not sorry. Did you think you were the only one here allowed to be an idiot?” Foggy shook his head, “don’t worry though, I think I’m done with any heroic bullshit for now, at least until the next time someone points a gun at you. I also petition to have Colleen-who-is-apparently-the-Iron-Fist-when-did-that-happen at any of your future fights, ‘cause....” Foggy curled his hand where it remained caught in Matt’s grip, revelling in the solid warmth that screamed  _ alive, _ “at least this way I’d know you have a person with - with crazy healing powers or whatever around, and then maybe I wouldn’t have to -” he choked on the words where they got stuck behind his teeth.  _ Then maybe he wouldn’t have to worry so much. _

Matt moved his mouth soundlessly for a moment before he cleared his throat, shifting in his seat.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “you shouldn’t have gotten hurt. It was my fault, I should’ve -”

“What? Gotten shot?” Foggy realized he’d hissed, and forced himself to dial it back, softening his tone. “Sorry, Matt, couldn’t let that happen. Not letting my dumb friends die on me. God knows I’ve seen it enough times -”  _ or close enough anyway.  _ Foggy blinked against the sudden pressure building in his eyes and opted to ignore it. 

“Better me than -”

“ _ No. _ ”

Foggy glanced at Karen, realizing they’d both spoken at the same time. 

“I’d prefer it if neither of you got shot,” she said lowly.

“Same goes for me,” Foggy nodded, “I’d prefer it if all three of us were fully bullet and near-death experience free.” He paused. “You’re not...you’re not expendable, Matt, you know that, right? You don’t -” Foggy swallowed past a growing lump in his sandpaper throat, “I can’t watch you throw your life around like it’s-”

“I know,” Matt said quietly. “I don’t - I - I’ve been…”

“Getting better, yeah, I know,” Foggy said, and felt something loosen deep inside him. Yeah, Matt had been getting better. Slowly. It was gradual, snail-paced, but both Foggy and Karen were there to watch and try but it was ultimately up to Matt who had finally dragged himself out of the dark. And the midnight escapades had - as far as Foggy was aware through monitoring the slow dwindling in bruises and limps - become less frequent. 

The ice cold  _ worry  _ was never going to completely go away. But it was getting better. Shrinking, in its own way. And  _ Page, Nelson & Murdock  _ was in development, something they had all been working towards. 

Maybe the new year would be better. For everyone. Maybe there would be fewer ninjas involved. Maybe they might even get through it all in one piece. 

Or, relatively, anyway. He’d already sort of broken that half-baked resolution. 

“And - and I’m proud of you for it, Matt,” he said, averting his gaze. Knowing Matt couldn’t quite see his expression didn’t mean he wasn’t going to turn his head away out of habit. “And...I’m sorry too. I haven’t -” God he wasn’t awake enough for this conversation, “there were things I could’ve...handled better too. I think we can agree that we’ve all been idiots, just. In general.”

“Yeah,” Karen chimed in, “but we’re all doing better. Except Foggy.” 

Foggy stuck his tongue out at her and she laughed, lightly swatting him on the arm. 

Matt’s lips twitched upwards and something once tightly coiled began to unwind in his shoulders. Foggy smiled.

“So, I’m guessing we can’t go back to Josie’s and finish that drink I left behind - ?”   


“Yeah, that sounds like a great plan, except, oh wait, you were shot,” Karen deadpanned. 

“But it’s New Year’s Eve-”

“Actually, it’s, uh, past midnight.” Matt gave him an apologetic smile. 

“Oh.” Foggy nodded slowly, “makes sense, uh, hopefully this means I’ve filled out my near-death experience quota for the year?”

Matt gave him a light pat on the shoulder.

“We can hope.”

“Well, then, Happy New Year, I guess,” Foggy said, lifting his hands where they remained intertwined with Karen’s and Matt’s. Nobody made a move to let go, and he...didn’t really feel like being the first.

“Happy New Year,” Matt and Karen echoed. 

“I don’t suppose you can swap out whatever’s in the IV for something stronger…?” He gave the clear line a light jiggle where it jutted uncomfortably from the back of his left hand.

Karen gave a sharp smile.

“I would’ve, but your nurse was giving us all the stink eye. Sorry.”

Foggy chuckled, and ignored the pain in his chest. 

Sure, it wasn’t the greatest New Year’s of all time. Not even close. 

Being shot sucked.

But Matt and Karen were there, alive, and laughing, and maybe everything wasn’t okay, and there was still so much to be done, to get through, but at least they had this.

They were together. 

And if Foggy could burn the moment into his brain to keep forever, he would. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope I wrote the characters okay, and I wish you a Happy New Year! Also, let me know if I need to change anything :)


End file.
